But we were making a rush to put ourselves in that capital,
and we could not proceed in the slow, systematic way of an advancing
army. We must take the risk and stand the suffering, whatever it was. So
the Seventh Regiment went through its bloodless _Noche Triste_.
MORNING.
At last we issued from the damp woods, two miles below the railroad
junction. Here was an extensive farm. Our vanguard had halted and
borrowed a few rails to make fires. These were, of course, carefully
paid for at their proprietor's own price. The fires were bright in the
gray dawn. About them the whole regiment was now halted. The men tumbled
down to catch forty winks. Some, who were hungrier for food than sleep,
went off foraging among the farm-houses. They returned with appetizing
legends of hot breakfasts in hospitable abodes, or scanty fare given
grudgingly in hostile ones. All meals, however, were paid for.
Here, as at other halts below, the country-people came up to talk to us.
The traitors could easily be distinguished by their insolence disguised
as obsequiousness.
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